


upsetti spaghetti

by starksnack



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Anal Sex, Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Tony Stark, Captain America/Iron Man Remix, Cooking, Crack, Domestic, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Food Fight, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Italian Tony Stark, M/M, Married Couple, Messy, Oral Sex, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Top Steve Rogers, True Love, but can it really be called that if Steve is a bad cook?, it is 2am and i have class tomorrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:27:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22277083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starksnack/pseuds/starksnack
Summary: “It that a Foccacia loaf in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”Basically Steve tries to cook an Italian birthday dinner for Tony.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 6
Kudos: 118
Collections: 2020 Captain America/Iron Man Relay Remix





	upsetti spaghetti

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [For Now (A Remix Before the War)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22215613) by [sophinisba](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophinisba/pseuds/sophinisba). 



> Special thanks to my bro [space](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orange_Coyote/pseuds/Orange_Coyote) for putting up with me enough to alpha and beta read this crackfest.  
> \-- ALSO!!! Please, I'm begging, do not use balsamic as lube. if anything, olive oil works (but not with condoms cause it will cause them to break,, don't be silly wrap your willy),, but what i'm trying to say is please just invest in real lube.

The warm smell of tomato and spice fills the air as Steve stirs the pot of marinara sauce frantically. Anxiety is written into every line of his features as his tongue pokes from the corner of his mouth in concentration.

It’s Tony’s birthday and while he’s out doing PR for the successful Sokovia Accords, Steve is hard at work at home trying to make his husband some kick-ass spaghetti for dinner.

On their first date what feels like forever ago they had gone to a small Italian restaurant down the street, and years later that’s where Steve proposed to the love of his life. Thinking back on it sends a thrill down his spine as he stirs the sauce. It’s a place he’ll cherish forever and Steve wants to create that experience for Tony within sprinting distance of their bedroom so he doesn’t have to suffer through a limo ride uncomfortably pressed against his zipper.

_ Alphabet pasta would have been a good idea too, _ he suddenly thinks. Steve could have spelled out the things he loves about Tony. But while Steve has the patience to tediously pick out the letters and arrange them, when it comes to food it’s kind of like Tony is looking through tubular pasta; he gets tunnel vision.

Focusing back on the task at hand, Steve sets the wooden spoon for the sauce aside, heading to the oven to pull out the garlic bread. It smells absolutely divine, the aroma of warm butter filling the kitchen as he sets the pan on a trivet on the counter. They’re a little burned but edible enough and Steve dusts his hands off, pride pooling warm and comforting in his chest like a hug.

Tony isn’t going to care at all. He’s going to swallow down Steve’s food no matter how gross it is and smile at him in a way that always makes his heart melt like butter over focaccia. No matter what, Tony always supports him, win or lose, and if that means suffering through Steve’s gross cooking he will, adorably scrunched nose and all. The garlic bread is a total win though and he can’t wait to present it to Tony just to see him smile. 

Unfortunately, the partially burned bread is the only thing going right with his dinner tonight. Steve scratches the back of his head as he scans the kitchen. Aside from setting the table to look like Steve stole it out of a magazine, his planned dinner is kind of a disaster. Looking at the rest of the meal pushes out Steve’s gratified thoughts. Tony’s not going to be disappointed in him, he never is, but it’s definitely not going to be something that makes him say ‘yum.’

Steve is considering just ordering takeout and letting Tony eat it off his abs when he notices that the spaghetti is boiling over. Steve rushes to the stove to turn it off, grabbing a towel to clean up the mess.

With the way things are going with the pasta, Steve kind of regrets not just putting a bow on his cock and calling it a day. No, Steve  _ had _ to be romantic and make the love of his life dinner for his birthday. He should have known better than to attempt Italian food for a man who grew up eating the best European delicacies money could buy, but Steve had always liked the volatility of cooking even though his food almost never turned out the way he planned.

Picking up the spoon, Steve returns to aggressively stirring the pasta. The noodles are probably overcooked so the sauce has to be amazing to mask the plastic texture. It’s not ideal, but it could be worse. At least the marinara smells good, so it must taste fantastic. Steve’s too scared to try it and disappoint himself to check.

Steve isn’t using a recipe book. He had opted to follow his heart instead, a decision for which he is currently regretting as he side-eyes the meatballs he had tried to make earlier.  _ Tried _ being the operative word as they were more mushy meat than anything else, the balls crumbling under his heavy palms as he had tried to roll them. He hopes Tony doesn’t mind squishy balls.

He’s so immersed in his failed attempt at cooking that he doesn’t notice Tony’s approaching footsteps until his husband’s expensive cologne is filling his nostrils. Steve relaxes, a pavlovian response to being near the love of his life as he stirs the sauce at a less distraught pace.

“This smells really good,” Tony whispers against Steve’s neck, the words like warm kisses brushing over his tense muscles. With a sigh Tony cuddles closer, his arms sliding around the blond’s neck to rest at his collarbone like a loving necklace. Tony presses his face between Steve’s shoulder blades in a hug before stepping back to peer into the depths of the pot.

Tony grabs the wooden spoon out of Steve’s hand, his tongue flicking out to taste the sauce with a thoughtful look.

Almost immediately his mouth screws up in disgust, brows furrowed and lips pinched as though he’s shoved a whole farm of lemons into his mouth. Tony coughs, hacking like his own stomach is trying to up and leave in an effort to escape Steve’s cooking. Steve guiltily pats his back, concern crossing his features as Tony’s face turns red.

“Water?” Steve offers, but Tony turns him down with a dismissive wave of his hand so he stares morosely where he is rubbing circles across Tony’s shoulder blades. 

Steve had known his food wasn’t perfect, but he had tried his best. It wasn’t good enough though and he had known that. He tries to keep the expression of disappointment off his face but Tony has always been able to read him like a blueprint.

“Hey, Steve, my love?” Tony’s voice is soft and smooth, the exact opposite of Steve’s pasta sauce as he brings their gazes to meet. Tony’s eyes are like two perfectly cooked meatballs, huge and wide as he settles a reassuring hand on Steve’s shoulder. “It’s okay, we can go out to dinner together instead.”

Reaching up, Tony cups his face, bringing their lips together in a sweet kiss. Parting his lips, Tony deepens the kiss, his free hand sliding up and down Steve’s broad chest in soothing circles. Steve can taste the lingering sauce on Tony’s plump lips and even he has to admit that it tastes pretty disgusting. Seven years of marriage means there is very little that they can keep from each other, not that they ever want to. 

When Tony pulls away, Steve realizes that his husband has left a sticky sauce fingerprint on his face against the curve of his cheekbone. Tony has his back to him, standing by the other counter to pick up his phone from where he’d abandoned it in favour of getting his hands on Steve. Before he can think better of it, Steve is grabbing a handful of his garbage sauce, flinging it across the kitchen and onto the back of Tony’s expensive three-piece suit.

It takes a second for him to recover from his initial shock but after that Tony grabs the pot of lopsided meatballs on the counter beside him, using a serving spoon to catapult them at Steve with gleeful laughter. He’s so beautiful when he smiles like that, reckless and uncaring in the best way. More often than not the meatballs crumble in his hands and Tony is cursing as he loads them onto the spoon before letting them fly.

Using a silver tray as protection, Steve shields himself from the incoming onslaught of Tony’s meat, an unironic “mamma mia,” slipping past his lips as he slides in the sauce coating the kitchen tiles. The offending food bounces off his shield to splat against the tile as Steve grabs a handfull of spaghetti, throwing it at Tony and laughing as it hits him in the face and slides down the slope of his pretty nose. An idea hits him along with a couple of meatballs and Steve grabs more spaghetti, dipping it in the marinara and chucking it at Tony’s expensive Italian loafers. The noodles draw lines of sauce curving up the legs of Tony’s pants 

Tony joins Steve grabbing spaghetti out of the pot and they both throw the overcooked pasta at each other between giggles. Steve drops the serving tray onto the floor with a clatter to gather Tony up into his arms instead. His apron has done nothing to protect him from their dinner but Tony’s suit has fared a lot worse.

Spaghetti covers Tony’s shoulders like he’s a beautiful Roman deity with noodle tentacles and Steve can’t help but laugh as he takes in the mess of his husband. There’s marinara sauce clinging to the strands of his hair like a demonic Italian halo and Steve thinks he’s never looked more beautiful than right now.

Abandoning their food fight, Steve settles his arms around his husband’s snatched waist, ducking his head to kiss his jaw and then his chin with a smile. The fabric of their ruined clothes squishes uncomfortably between them as Steve hugs his husband tightly. Tony arches against him, his spine turning into a spaghetti noodle as he thrusts his hardening length against Steve’s with a whine.

“It that a Foccacia loaf in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

Tony laughs at the line, the sound smooth like a hundred year old balsamic poured over strawberry ice cream. Rolling his eyes, he goes for Steve’s belt, lifting up his apron as sticky fingers undo the clasp. Steve’s pants drop around his ankles, freeing his cock to slap against his apron with an obscene wack that has Tony giggling.

Grabbing the balsamic off the table, Tony drizzles it on his fingers and then Steve’s cock, dropping to his knees with the bottle still in his hand. Letting out a groan, Steve watches enraptured as Tony wraps his mouth around Steve’s cock like a man starving. His head bobs as he hollows his cheeks, sucking gently on Steve’s head.

Time stands still and Steve tries not to fall over as Tony practically drools all over his cock. He’s got his fingers in the rich chocolate of his husband’s hair, guiding his head up and down his shaft as precome and spit drip onto the messy tile. Steve isn’t quite sure if his husband’s excessive moaning is due to his length or Tony’s ridiculous love of balsamic, but it’s got him feeling some type of way as he pulls Tony off his cock to run his head over the precome painting Tony’s lips glossy.

Tony smiles to himself in the cutest way as he licks around the head of Steve’s cock in a move that has the blond gasping as he braces himself against the kitchen counter for balance. His legs feel like cooked pasta as Tony looks up at him, eyes heavy-lidded and lashes fluttering as he lazily smiles around Steve’s cock. Sweat and sauce mat his hair to his forehead in curling designs and Steve thinks he looks beautiful like that, on his knees and ready to receive all the love Steve has to offer him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Tony moans as Steve’s cock hits the back of his throat and the vibration along his length is enough to send Steve over the edge, spilling like a waterfall of creamy marinara as he trembles, safe in Tony’s strong arms.  _ Talk about being lost in the sauce _ , Steve thinks, though maybe he says it out loud for the way Tony pulls off him to choke out a startled laugh.

“You always keep me well fed.” Tony smirks after swallowing Steve's come. He grins, lips swollen and hair a mess as he tips forward to press a kiss at Steve’s hip, mouthing at a fading hickey he’d left there the night before. He bites at Steve’s hip as he undoes his own belt, working his slacks down to free his swollen cock.

Steve knows that his regenerative healing is motivation for Tony to mark him up as often as possible and if he doesn’t distract his husband soon, he’s going to have Tony’s lips on every inch of skin except where he wants them. While he loves to play with the smattering of colours across his skin while Tony is away, he would very much like to please his husband while they’re together.

In one smooth motion, Steve scoops Tony up in his arms, loving the way his husband relaxes against him bonelessly, his limbs akin to limp spaghetti. Tony tips his head against Steve’s chest, flicking a finger across his peaking nipples with a wicked grin even as the tension and stress from his day leaks out of his shoulders.

Pushing aside the bowl with the last surviving meatballs -- that now look like mincemeat more than anything else -- Steve sets Tony on the counter. He presses an apologetic kiss to his husband’s collarbone when he frowns about being sat in a combination of marinara sauce and meat from their food fight. Tony forgets about the mess as Steve takes the balsamic from his limp fingers, drizzling it onto his fingers before swiping a finger across Tony’s rim.

He’s still a little loose from their round in the shower this morning and Steve easily presses a finger in, slick with balsamic, as Tony lies back on the marble counter, his legs on Steve’s shoulders as he gazes up at him, eyes twinkling like the brightest stars in the Italian summer sky. Steve slides his cock through the mess of balsamic dripping out of Tony’s ass before pushing in with a groan.

Reaching up, he pulls Tony’s stained shirt open, buttons skittering across the tile and over the edge to bounce across the tiles. Tony laughs, his hands dropping to Steve’s head to card his fingers through Steve’s hair. A clump of spaghetti falls off his head onto Tony’s belly and he laughs.

Steve looks up to grin at him before turning back to the balsamic to pour more around Tony’s clenching entrance. He pushes all the way in, running his hand down Tony’s shaft with a smile. Steve swipes his thumb over the head of Tony’s cock, gathering the precome there before sucking his finger into his mouth. 

“These meatballs are really good,” Tony mumbles with his mouth full. Steve looks up with his brows furrowed to find Tony picking through the bowl for another one. He manages to look thoughtful even with Steve meatballs deep in his ass grinding his hips up to hit Tony’s sweet spot. Steve pouts at Tony’s coherency but his husband only looks up and laughs. “Don’t worry beloved, your meat is still my favourite.”

“It better be,” Steve mumbles, pulling Tony across the counter so he has a better angle to thrust into him. Tony grabs onto his shoulders, shifting his hips until Steve is nailing his prostate on every thrust, panting like he’s just completed a baking marathon. Tony is clenching around him in time with his thrusts and Steve loves him even more, running his hands reverently over his abdomen.

“What if Tony was short for Rigatoni instead of Anthony?”

Steve’s hips still as he shoots his husband an incredulous look from under his sweaty bangs. Sliding Tony’s legs off his shoulders, he presses forward, tipping his head down to silence his ridiculous husband with a kiss. “I love you.”

Tony’s face melts into a blissful smile as he chases Steve’s lips with his own, nipping another kiss against his jaw. “I love you too.”

Gripping his husband’s hips, Steve picks up the pace, watching Tony’s face go slack as he groans.  _ There we go,  _ Steve thinks with a satisfied smile. Steve loves how many things Tony’s mind can do it once. It makes seeing him out of his mind with pleasure an achievement.

Tony comes first with Steve’s hand lightly stroking down his cock. His pleasure comes in waves and he pulls Steve toward him for a kiss to muffle his moans. Steve follows him over the edge going boneless against Tony as he makes his husband into an even bigger mess. He kisses across Tony’s collarbone, pausing to suck a hickey into his neck with a proud smile. “Happy birthday Tony.”

“Rigatoni,” he corrects.

Steve laughs burying his face in Tony’s neck. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Steve tilts his head down to watch as he pulls out, come slipping out with him to drip onto the tile with an obscene noise. He gathers Tony up into his arms, pulling him against his chest with a kiss to his marinara flavoured hair. He grabs the plate of garlic bread in his free hand before heading to their bedroom.

“I’m sorry about dinner,” Steve says, though he isn’t as upset as he was before. Tony somehow always seems to settle his nerves and he can feel the warmth of contentment pressing against his rib cage. His love for Tony wants to spill past his lips in a never-ending wave. Setting the plate of bread on their bedside table, he carries Tony to the expansive shower while pressing kisses to his shoulders.

“I love you for trying,” Tony whispers against his skin, nosing into his neck.

They’re both covered in food and sticky with sweat and come, but Steve considers the day to be a win because he’s here in this perfect moment with Tony. He’s secure in the fact that his husband loves him unconditionally, he’ll stay, shitty cooking and all. If he had to do over the day again, there’s not a thing he would change, even if their dinner ends up being takeout in bed while they trade kisses and declarations of love.

Tony confirms his thoughts hours later when he kisses the words “best day ever” against Steve’s bare skin.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [for the love of (the spaghetti remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22528336) by [Lets_call_me_Lily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lets_call_me_Lily/pseuds/Lets_call_me_Lily)




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